India is a holy land
but not the land in which I was born.

I made a friendship circle with my sisters
and the red clubs broke our hands apart.
Flowers and snow were falling from the sky
I was only thirteen years old.
When The roof of the world fell on our heads
with the red sun blinding our eyes.

For years I have borne beatings in this prison called Drapchi.

These years of jail that will be never ending,
they punish me because I became a nun at thirteen years
Years of jail that will never end, to punish me, for becoming a nun at thirteen

They force us to put on their Cultural clothes
They rape us and kill any unborn inside
I have no windows in my cell,
in this dark cell with iron bars
I am fed bad and rotten food unfit for any human
I pray to God that he lets me see the daylight again
I am twenty-seven but I feel so old.
I remember my land, the land of the snows
the green pastures and the smiling children
my sweet and white white heaven
where one day I hope I will go back to walk
and my sisters will be able to re-embrace each other

I'm locked in a jail, but have no regrets
although my lovely land has not been sold
it has been stolen
that is why we have cried so many many tears,
many many tears

The deep blue lakes still live
And I see the glimmer of eternal hope
In the direction of our motherland
we're singing this short song of truth
The wind will carry it to Lhasa
so the time will not be too sad for us.

The people of this land love peace
the people of this land love freedom
the people of this land love freedom
love freedom